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COPYRIGHT DEPOSnV 



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IN 



ABE LINCOLN^S 
TOWN" 



Q^<>A./v«^4. TH_,^V^Q^I^V<\,^i, 



Published by the Author 
Hodgenville, Ky. 



■ H&SHS 



COPYRIGHT 1915 

BY 

CLAUDE HUDGINS 



AUG 21 (915 
^CI.A410179 



I. 



To a Hodgenvillian there is no more 
interesting subject than the ''burg" 
and its people. Indeed, to a great 
many of us who have always lived in 
the confines of her corporate limits, 
it's about the only place on the map. 
To us all roads lead to Hodgenville, 
and the sky comes down to the 
ground equally distant from all 
points of the compass. But to you 
who have traveled far and wide, it 
may have occurred ere this, that 
there are lots of towns as big as 
Hodgenville. 

It must be admitted there are no 
great sky-scrapers towering into the 
heavens like other great seaports; 
nor do we have our streets paved 
with brick or other hard substance; 



4 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 

nor are the streets we have cut up 
and obstructed with the ever noisy 
street cars. But we have purer air, 
brighter sunshine, and happier hearts. 
We are not annoyed with the ever 
rush of business, and yet *Ve all" 
have plenty, and live about as easy 
as people who live in larger places. 
We are not so large but that we are 
blessed with a knowledge of every- 
body, and almost everybody's affairs ; 
nor so crowded with our own busi- 
ness but that we have as much time, 
if not more, to devote to other peo- 
ple's business as we do to our own. 

For indeed, in small towns things 
to talk about and think about are 
so scarce that when Sam is caught 
holding Mary Ann's hand, it spreads 
over tov/n like wild fire or some con- 
tagious disease, and like fire and dis- 
ease, it gets bigger the further it 
goes. Town gossip, like mental telep- 



''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 5 

athy, travels from the firesides of 
our homes down the streets, around 
the corners, up the alleys, and into 
the back doors of our stores and 
business houses. Little lies and 
imaginations, in their rapid flight 
over the city, are transformed as if 
by magic into living truths, and the 
dirtiest meanest things that are ever 
done or said, live and are handed 
down by tradition from generation to 
generation. Somebody's chickens get 
into somebody's back yard, then there 
is a fuss, hard words, bitter feelings, 
and life-time enemies. One mother 
thinks her daughter more accom- 
plished than her neighbor's, or that 
her son, William Henry, is too good 
to keep company with Susan Jane, or 
that Ada Gray is trying her best to 
marry Thomas FeHx, just as though 
the poor girl should not want to mar- 



6 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 

ry, and that it is a sin to think of 
such a thing. 

To one who has always lived in a 
small town, and is familiar with its 
history from observation and actual 
experience, the ordinary happenings 
are nothing unusual, but it is other- 
wise to the man up a tree. 



'IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN' 



11. 



Did you ever go down the street 
on a rainy Sunday night after the 
hghts were out? Man ahve! You 
can talk to me about the ace of spades 
and black cats, but they are nothing. 
Why, you can't find your way from 
one comer to the other. My, but 
how your heels do pop on the con- 
crete! And you see streaks of light 
from some upstairs window glaring 
across the street like ghosts on the 
wall. You ought to get up about 4 
o'clock some Monday morning, and 
go down through town, and see how 
empty, vacant and deserted your 
streets look. It seems like every- 
body has left town and taken their 
things with them. And then you 
ought to walk up to the top of the 



8 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 

hill, and stand tip-toe on the brink 
of the horizon, and watch the morn- 
ing shoot sunbeams at the vanishing 
night. 

The red sun heaves a shoulder up 
above Muldrough's Hill, and stares 
sleepily along Nolyn Valley. For a 
moment he hangs there, glancing 
carelessly, with the vague and de- 
pressing stare of a man who is tired, 
at the little town, Hodgenville. 

A carriage from Buffalo, bent on 
catching the early train to Louis- 
ville, dashes down the hill and turns 
hurriedly toward the depot. A lean 
house cat, picking its way across the 
street like a thief returning from a 
midnight prowl, hears the rumble of 
the carriage, bristles up, takes to its 
heels, and scrambles hastily over the 
fence. 

The people of the village are be- 
ginning to stir about. Albert, the 



''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN*' 9 

hotel porter, carries out a pan of 
ashes and dumps it into a barrel at 
the side of the pavement. This done 
he straightens up, and wonders 
vaguely where he can find that drink 
of whisky, that matutinal thirst 
quencher which he must have each 
morning on his dreary road to Tophet. 
About this time the hack for the 
train backs up to the hotel door, and 
three tired, discouraged, underpaid 
prune peddlers hurry out with their 
grips and grumblingly climb aboard. 
I can see those drummers as plain as 
day. I don't know any of them, but 
I know they are there, and would 
not be making the jerk- water tov/ns 
unless they were discouraged. They 
have no faith in themselves, no faith 
in their goods, and, of course, no 
faith in God or the future, for if 
they live to be old men they will 
still be peddling groceries, if they 



10 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 

are that lucky. No wonder they 
grumble. 

Over across the square, and from 
God knows where at this early hour, 
comes Sip Simsette jingling a bunch 
of keys in his pocket, and whistling 
a foolish tune. Down the street clerks 
are beginning to unlock their stores. 
Strutting along like a peacock comes 
Pewee McAdoo with his arms akimbo, 
because he will wear those high- 
waisted pants, and so on down to the 
store he goes. Arriving there he 
unlocks the door, and there exudes 
into the street a perfected maelstrom 
of blended odors. The smell of to- 
bacco, spices, stale cabbage,and de- 
caying vegetables all rush out in a 
commingled stream of sickening 
stench. 

The sun is high now and hot. Fan- 
ning himself with his hat, there 
emerges from the hotel entrance a 



''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 11 

tall young man with long curly hair. 
Out on the pavement he halts irreso- 
lutely for a second, wipes the perspir- 
ation from his forehead, lights his 
cigar, and then with the determined 
tread of one who has just decided 
some momentous question, he goes 
across the square, unlocks the door 
of a tiny law office and seats himself 
at a littered desk. Wearily, and with 
the least possible show of interest, 
he picks up first one paper and an- 
other, toying aimlessly with each for 
a second, then discards it. He is busy 
trying to keep busy on a little two-by- 
four matter that would scarce detain 
the attention for a minute of a well- 
trained claim clerk. But this young 
man is a lawyer, and must perforce, 
instill into every little action the 
gravest possible import. 

By this time Pubhc Square is at its 
busiest. Over across on the far side 



12 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 

a farmer is tying his team. From 
the pavement below him a hog rises 
from his wallow, and scrapes his 
muddy side against the concrete 
walks. Flies swarm about the win- 
dow, and out in the square below the 
heat is well nigh unbearable. Pass- 
ing beneath the window and so on 
around the square goes Sip Simsette 
in his aimless ramble, still vigorously 
jingling his bunch of keys, and 
whistling his endless roundelay. 

Seated there at the "aforesaid" 
littered desk, the young lawyer sizes 
it all up. He knows that yesterday 
made to-day and that they both will 
make to-morrow, and it is a wonder 
he doesn't grow tired of it all. But 
this is life — 'To do without avail the 
decent ordered tasks of every day. 
Nay, — I'd rather see the rebel stark 
against his country's laws, or God's 
own mad lover dying on a kiss." 



'in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 13 



III. 

On yonder corner stand some men 
talking to one another in a low whis- 
per. You can tell from their ma- 
neuvers that it is something secret. 
It has the tinge of an undermining 
plot. Look, how they glance around 
with a nervous uneasy air as if they 
might fear some one overhearing 
them. Not a great way off stands 
another bunch of men, they belong to 
the other faction; and each thinks 
the success of their interest depends 
upon the others failure and extinc- 
tion. Listen, they are saying mean 
slanderous things about the parties 
to the other side. Watch both fac- 
tions for a few days; go with them 
through their every day life; don't 
look just at their outward garb of 



14 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 

policy, but look also at their acts be- 
hind the curtain, their innermost 
souls, and see how they cut and slash 
and ill-wish each other. See how 
each side will try to quash every un- 
dertaking, though for the best inter- 
est of the community; they are 
against it because the other side, or 
some member of the other side, 
started it. 

A young man sees the necessity of 
a public improvement, and with no 
personal interest, other than better- 
ing his town, undertakes the or- 
ganization of a good school, or the 
construction of concrete sidewalks, 
or the installment of a water plant. 
He meets with some encouragement 
and goes on. After devoting a year's 
time and much hard work, the under- 
taking is at last accomplished. There 
it is, a grand success, a step toward 
progress that the town should be 



''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 15 

proud of, — a lasting benefit to all pos- 
terity. This young man who first 
started the move, did not do it all 'tis 
true; but he put it on foot and kept 
it moving to completion, a necessary 
function that no one else dared to do. 
What does he get for his time and 
labor ? Five hundred thousand knocks 
and curses, and hounded to his grave ! 
He didn't expect pay for his labor, 
nor honor for his glory, but he might 
have been left to die in peace. But 
what would painter do, or what would 
poet or saint, but for the crucifixions 
and hells? And ever more in the 
world is this marvelous balance of 
beauty and disgust, magnificence and 
rats. Not Antonius, but a poor 
washer-woman said, "The more trou- 
ble, the more lion; that's my prin- 
ciple." 

I came down town last night, and 
near the Court House in Public 



16 *'IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 

Square, I saw a crowd of men and 
boys talking loud; some with angry 
faces were threatening and swearing, 
others looked scared and were tremb- 
ling, as if undetermined whether to 
run or fall dead. One of them grabs 
another by the collar and says, "You 
low down scoundrel beast, I'll kill 
you." A lick is struck, and that fol- 
lowed by another, down they come 
rolling and tumbling in the mud. A 
low cry is heard, and then it is all 
over. Somebody is hurt! His hot 
red blood is running down the gutter. 
Next morning in Police Court the 
wounded man pays his ''eight sixty," 
the other left on the early train, and 
that is the end of it. The curtain 
is lowered on this scene, and nothing 
more happens till some team gets 
frightened and runs away; then 
everybody comes out on the street to 
see a human being killed; but there 



''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN 17 

is no human being in it, and the team 
whirls down the street Hke a cyclone, 
and you think every little dirty- 
faced boy in town is running off 
with it. 

The lean hungry figure of one 
"Beeky" Fitch can be seen straggling 
along the street as unconcerned as if 
all eternity was before him. He has 
a sad dejected look this ''Beeky" has, 
that arouses your suspicion of a mis- 
fortune in some deep-rooted love af- 
fair. However, the little fellow 
seems to have his part of the fun, 
for now and then you can see him 
expedite his momentum, give a squall 
that would humiliate an African lion, 
and pick up his heels with infantile 
alacrity. In short, he sees some 
sport and is hastening to it. Some 
fifteen or twenty lads are congre- 
gated in a game or fight. In that 
bunch of youngsters may be seen 



18 '']N ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 

John, Willie, Clyde, and Daniel; and 
from the noise they are making, you 
would think about seventeen thou- 
sand other dirty-faced urchins. You 
can't tell what they are doing, but 
they are evidently having the time 
of their lives. Occasionally one of 
them falls, or is knocked to the 
ground, and he gets up all muddy, 
but he is after another boy in an in- 
stant, with all the vim and vigor in 
him. Then he laughs, and then they 
all laugh and yell loud enough to tear 
their little lungs out. 

And yet, notwithstanding malfor- 
mation, worthless characters, and rot- 
ten cabbage, Hodgenville, like other 
places, is undergoing the changes of 
time. Her buildings are being built 
higher; her streets remetalled and 
extended further out; old houses are 
torn down and new ones built in their 
places; old settlers die, and move 



"IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 19 

away, and new ones come in and take 
their places; young boys and girls 
grow into manhood and womanhood 
with some improvement over their 
predecessors — they dress better, 
know more, and have less. Hodgen- 
ville's schools are being enlarged, her 
church steeples are climbing higher 
into the heavens and extending the 
shadow of their good influences 
further and further out into the sur- 
rounding evils. The signs of the 
times are that Hodgenville will, in 
time, become a God-fearing and God- 
loving people. 

Meanwhile, the clear and serene 
Nolynn ripples on down the winding 
channel of its stream just as it did 
years and years ago, murmering the 
same low melodies it did thousands 
and thousands of years before any 
one even thought of building a town 
here — when Hodgenville was but a 



20 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN*' 

part of the vast tanglewoods through 
which it flowed, and the wild things 
crept out from among the big trees 
and under-thickets and licked their 
hot red tongues into it's clear cool. 
But time rolls on, and changes come 
and go, just as the waters find their 
way to the ocean, and then back again 
on the bosom of a cloud. 

But you can't tell always what is 
going to happen till it has happened, 
and even then you don't know wheth- 
er it is or just appears to be. The 
one unsolvable question that has been 
handed down through all the ages, 
is this mysterious question of life: 
How came we here? What are we 
doing, and whither goest? It is a 
question that all the barbarians, and 
the innumerable modern Christian- 
orthodox have disagreed in solving. 
The Naturalist and the Atheist have 
had their say. There have been hun- 



*'IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 21 

dreds and thousands of volumes writ- 
ten upon the subject, with many good 
and sufficient reasons for every the- 
ory. Yet we all come back to the un- 
solvable mystery, How? What? and 
Whither ? I look out on the mysteries 
of the great universe around me; 
upon the millions and millions of 
stars that dot the firmament of 
heaven in the night time. I look on 
all the mysteries of nature, and the 
mysteries of life, and I ask myself 
the solution of the riddle, and I bow 
my head in the presence of the in- 
finite mystery, and say, I don't know, 
I can't tell. It is all a riddle, and 
the key to the riddle is another riddle. 
Meanwhile, out in the orchard, the 
apple blossoms are falling lazily to 
the ground; the buds are unfolding 
into tender leaves preparatory to 
shade the panting flocks from the 
heat of another summer's sun; the 



22 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 

grass is weaving its velvet green over 
the fields; and the old cow has al- 
ready begun to switch her tail at the 
thoughts of future battles with the 
flies. 

There is a meeting of the Ladies' 
Book Club at the Blinkenstaff home 
this afternoon. Some six or eight of 
the town swell dames have already 
arrived. They are very elegantly 
dressed, these society stars are. Per- 
sonal out-shine being the object of 
their club, they have put on their 
best silks with colors that would 
make a peacock blush. They look like 
fairies, and they talk like nymphs. 
Every bloomin' one of them are talk- 
ing at the same time, and about dif- 
ferent subjects which they change 
about three times a minute ; notwith- 
standing every one can tell all that 
was said, to-morrow, and more be- 
sides. They have talked about most 



''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 23 

everything in town, except books, and 
they would talk about books if they 
could think of the names of any. 
Some of these ladies are better and 
smarter than the ordinary run of 
women. The very fact that they be- 
long to the book club and wear bet- 
ter clothes makes them better. There 
are two or three in the club who 
think they are better than the others, 
for the simple reason that they are 
permitted to do most of the talking — 
Some of them don't want to act smart. 
Thank God, there are some good 
women in a book club. 

My dear Polly, you may have be- 
longed to the book club for ten years, 
or have been a member of the Ladies' 
Aid Society for fifteen. You may 
have read Cervantes, Mary J. Holmes, 
or Honora DeBalzac, or you may have 
even perused the history of ancient 
Rome; you may have stood upon the 



24 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 

topmost pinacle of Gibraltar and 
gazed out on the sad and solemn sea ; 
you may be able to tell about all these 
things, which is very good, and yet 
not be able to help one step in the 
advancement or progress of the world 
by attending to the ordinary house- 
hold duties of your home. You may 
have a little better carriage of per- 
son, your complexion may be better, 
your hair trained more artistic, or 
your clothes hang more picturesque 
than women who stay at home and 
work; and that is very good so far 
as it goes, but after all, what is it 
worth ? For how much can you cash 
it? How much of your ticket will it 
pay through St. Peter's gate? By 
staying in dark rooms your hands 
will get whiter, or by mixing and 
mingling in the peacock societies you 
may keep in touch with the gossip 
of the town, or by the constant prac- 



''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 25 

tice on the dancing floor you may 
have more admirers; but you can 
build more character with a dish rag 
or a floor mop. Not that women 
should stay at home and kill them- 
selves at work. We don't like the 
man who expects that of his wife. 
But we love the woman who loves 
her home. We love the woman who 
is not afraid of a little work. A lit- 
tle work each day around the house, 
a little cleaning or a little dusting 
and arranging each day will make 
any woman healthier and happier 
than being dressed and laced all the 
time, on the run listening to the 
slanders of gossip. 

What, you say this is being preach- 
ed to ? Oh well, I know that you must 
somehow live, and that it takes all 
kinds of people to make a world ; but 
if everybody were to run from the 
things which have a tendency to 



26 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 

make them better men and women, 
this would get to be one devil of a 
world. 

I believe the mail has come. If 
you will go with me to the postoffice, 
we will have a better point of view 
to observe your town's humanity. 
There is a bunch of it there waiting 
for the mail to be distributed. There 
are boys and girls, old men and mid- 
dle-aged men. They are so crowded 
we will have to elbow our way in. 
But they will not mind that, they are 
good-natured, and rather enjoy being 
pushed and shoved around, especially 
the girls. Some of them are already 
pushing and crowding with no ap- 
parent cause other than to laugh and 
giggle over; they are feeling so good 
they are just running over with 
laugh. Others are engaged reading 
letters which they have just opened; 
business letters, social letters and 



''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 27 

love letters; and you can read in the 
scowls and smiles of their faces, 
their respective tenors. While others 
are holding their daily papers up to 
the light, with some two or three 
looking over their shoulders, to see 
what has happened down in Mexico, 
or whether the protocol has been 
signed in Bulgaria. Just as if it 
made any difference in Hodgenville 
whether Bulgaria ever signed a pro- 
tocol, or whether there is a Bulgaria 
or a protocol. On the other side of 
this postoffice, there are some men 
leaning against the wall. They are 
neither reading, pushing nor laugh- 
ing; but are just standing there in 
solemn expectancy, as if they might 
be looking for an appointment, pleni- 
potentiary to Peru, or for a check 
from the Bank of Bengal. But the 
check from Bengal doesn't come; it's 
just a circular from a department 



28 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 

store in Chicago offering shoes, men's 
shirts and gentlemen's neck-wear at 
wonderfully reduced prices. 

There goes a beautiful young girl ; 
she is just developing into woman- 
hood. She is so clean and sweet, and 
looks so nice and lady-like that you 
think she must be a good girl. Watch 
her, she is about to pass a working 
girl. Will this well-dressed girl speak 
to her and smile upon her a comfort- 
ing good morning? No, she passes 
her as coldly and unconcerned as she 
would a caterpillar. What is the 
beautiful little lady thinking of? Is 
it of her home, of how she can add 
to its beauty, or how she can relieve 
her dear old mother of some care? 
Is she thinking of her father's gray 
hairs, and wondering whether she 
caused any of them to come there? 
Is she thinking of suffering humanity, 
and planning a way by which she can 



''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 29 

help it? Ah, I wonder what are the 
thoughts of this beautiful piece of 
innocence. Are they about religion, 
Sunday school? There! I see her 
look at herself in the show window 
and straighten her hair . She looks 
down at her skirt and beautiful little 
slippers. I see her smile upon some 
well-dressed young man. She throws 
her head to one side and glides along 
like a goddess of love. She thinks 
of how she looks, what the boys are 
thinking of her, and how she will 
shine at the ball to-night. She is 
thinking of the sensation that will 
run through her when her lover takes 
her into his arms and skips over the 
floor to the rythmic motion of music. 
Pride! Vanity! Passion! 

You can see young men, too, walk- 
ing our streets, with their pants 
freshly pressed, their shoes newly 
shined, hair parted in the middle, and 



30 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 

hats on the side of their head, walk- 
ing along with an air that would lead 
you to believe they were worth mil- 
lions, and so smart that it would not 
be safe to get near them, lest their 
heads should burst with superfluous 
information. 

And then, there is the scene in 
front of the livery stable, the Aze 
House, and the Conn Hotel. There 
in the shade sits some six, eight or 
a dozen of the town's idlers, whittling 
on sticks, chairs or anything that 
may be handy, and talking as im- 
portant and all-knowing as a man 
from Mars. Each one has a cigarette 
between his fingers or a chew of to- 
bacco in his jaw, spitting the red 
juice on the pavement. They em- 
phasize about every other word with 
an emphatic Hell or a blasphemus 
G— Dam. 

In the hotel lobby are several other 



"in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 31 

classes of our town's humanity, as 
well as some humanity which does 
not belong to our town; for there 
are some six or eight traveling sales- 
men sitting around leaning against 
the newly plastered walls, telling 
their ups and downs and their won- 
derful achievements. There, also, is 
Rastus Rabo, one of our town's im- 
portant nineteen-year-olders. He is 
a very wise young guy, this Rastus 
Rabo, for he talks as much, or a lit- 
tle more, than the most talkative of 
these traveling men. He, too, is lean- 
ing against the wall with his heels 
hooked in the chair round; and is 
continually drawing up his pant legs, 
lest some one might fail to notice his 
silk hose or the cut of his new button 
shoes. He is smoking a cigarette and 
every few minutes spits between his 
fingers, and then reaches down again 
to pull his pant legs higher, as if 



32 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 

they were continually and most ob- 
stinately crawling down all the time; 
but in fact they are almost above his 
knees already, and if not careful he 
will have them so high he will show 
his drawers. However, it is neces- 
sary that every one present should 
know that this important Rastus 
Rabo wears stockings instead of 
socks, and so it will not make much 
difference if he does show his draw- 
ers, if that is all he shows. 

But this Rastus Rabo is very par- 
ticular to say something smart in 
the presence of these traveling sales- 
men, which after all, may be very 
well, for one of these drummers, too, 
thinks he is very smart and must do 
a certain amount of talking. It would 
not be to the best interest of the bet- 
ter behaved of this crowd for one 
smart alex to conduct all the conver- 
sation lest it grow monotonous. Some 



''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 33 

of these traveling salesmen are ac- 
customed to these outbursts of super- 
fluous knowledge, and are not much 
disturbed from their order filling. 
But it does not happen that all these 
men have orders to fill. One tall 
dark-complected gentleman has been 
sitting all this time listening to these 
two parrots, and to catch it all has 
had to sit back and say nothing. It 
was for him that a great deal of this 
big talk was made. This smart alex 
and Rastus think he is an amateur 
on the road, and that he is sitting 
there wishing that he were as smart 
as they. 

Paul said, "The fool uttereth all he 
knows, but the wise man keepeth it 
in till afterwards." And it has been 
said that deep water lies still, but 
that the devil is at the bottom. 
Finally, the quiet gentleman with the 
closed mouth opens his mouth, and 



34 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 

without removing his eyes from the 
two gibbers, addresses them: 

''Young men, you seem to think 
you are very wise. I judge from 
your behavior that you think you are 
especially endowed by the Omni- 
potence to enlighten this great world 
which you inhabit; and that if your 
lamps were suddenly extinguished, 
everything would cease to exist ; that 
there would be a sudden jar and a 
crash of the earth's axis, and this 
old world would fly off into chaos. 
But I want to say to you that it is 
very doubtful if any such things 
would happen at all, or if a single 
railroad company would go into bank- 
ruptcy; or that there would be one 
less man walk the streets of Tampaco. 
If either of you were to die today 
they would still raise wheat in Ar- 
gentine and mine in Peru, to ship 
fruit from Los Angeles to the Tickers 



''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 35 

of New York. Yes, sir, I have no 
doubt the big ships would continue 
to plow the ocean, and the newsboys 
on the streets of Liverpool would 
never leave off the tomtom cry, 
P-a-p-a-r! P-a-p-a-r! 

I'll tell you, young men, this is a 
great big world compared to the 
small part you know. As to your 
little world, Rastus Rabo, it does not 
extend much beyond the corporate 
limits of your town ; possibly there is 
a narrow streak or two that runs out, 
like the tail of a comet, and reaches 
as far as Stithton, Vine Grove, or per- 
haps Magnolia. Either of you or both 
of you might be lifted up by a balloon 
into the ethereal regions and wafted 
across the deep blue sea to a foreign 
seaport; and you would look around 
with that vague and curious stare of 
one who is lost, and ask where you 
were; if told that it was Singapore, 



36 'In ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 

you would not know whether you were 
in Jupiter or Northern IlHnois." 

Out in the Square, some mis- 
chievous scamp cries, ''Sick, sick," 
when there is nothing to sick; but 
from four comers of the earth they 
come yelping. Old dogs and young 
dogs, town dogs and country dogs — 
blue, black and brindled. So many 
dogs, with such a variety of snaps, 
barks and growls that you think 
something has broken loose in dog- 
dom. But dogs will be dogs, just as 
boys will be boys, and as soon as they 
discover there is ''nothin' doin'," they 
tuck their respective tails and scat- 
ter. 

Go with me, if you please, into the 
dead hours of night; follow me 
through the dark alleys, and into the 
back hallways and ante-chambers of 
some of our secret backway build- 
ings. Take a peep through the key- 



*'IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 37 

hole, or rather climb into a chair and 
take a look over the transom. There 
you will find the gambler's den. There 
by the dim light of a candle you will 
see strong healthy men wagering over 
a game of chance. The excitement 
and anxiety has long since driven 
them to drink, and you can smell the 
whisky, beer and smoke of a gam- 
bler's hell. We shall not go into 
every chamber of this building, lest 
we should see something that would 
shock our modesty, but suffice it to 
say, that in other rooms there are 
other games of vice. 

Such are the frailties of a small 
town as well as large cities. You 
may think this knocking in thus de- 
tailing the iniquity and depravity of 
our little city, but it is here, and were 
it left out and only the best given, 
the tale would be but half told; and 
the truth half told is but a lie. Be- 



38 ''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 

sides, we do not climb by following 
the good alone, but also by avoiding 
the bad. There is some good in the 
worst of towns, and some bad in the 
best of them, and less bad in any of 
them than in large cities. 

In the Public Square of this town 
stands a statue of Abraham Lincoln, 
this county's, this nation's greatest 
son. It is a magnificent sculpture of 
granite and bronze, almost fit for an 
image of a god. It is not only beau- 
tiful and grand, but it stands out 
there a glowing model to the young 
manhood of this town. It is hoped 
that our sons and sons' sons may see 
in it a guide post to grander and 
nobler lives. It is hoped that when 
the mean spirit rises up within us, 
and we are about to do that which 
is wrong, we can look up to this 
heavenly image, and the evil will van- 
ish from us; for, indeed, the person 



''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 39 

who can look up at the image of this 
great man, and think of his kind and 
generous heart, and still be mean, 
must be a wicked and depraved soul. 
When I stood a few days ago and 
gazed at this magnificence, I thought 
about the career of the greatest man 
that ever lived. In my imagination 
I saw him while yet a boy in the for- 
est of Kentucky, around the fireside 
of the cabin with his father and 
mother. I saw him leave that cabin 
when he started to Indiana. And I 
saw him look back through his tear- 
stained eyes a last sad look at his 
childhood home. I saw him on the 
flatboat down the Mississippi. I saw 
him in Illinois, in the fields and woods, 
and afterwards in the school house. 
I saw him behind the counter at New 
Salem, and I saw him chasing the 
Black Hawks in the Northwest. I 
saw him in Springfield, a rising young 



40 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN*' 

lawyer, united to his Kentucky blue- 
grass bride. And I saw him in the 
memorable debates with Stephen A. 
Douglas, where intellect against in- 
tellect swayed like the waves of the 
sea, and Douglas went down and Lin- 
coln came up. I saw him in the White 
House in Washington, during the 
blackest of the Civil War, when this 
government was like a tottering 
throne; and amid the cries and 
screams of the battlefield, I heard his 
calm voice saying: "A government of 
the people, by the people, and for the 
people." And I said to myself, that 
man will live when time's destroying 
arm has crumbled that statue to 
dust. 



'in ABP LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 41 



IV. 

One early May morning I stepped 
off a train and found myself between 
a lot of passenger trains. I was in 
the city of Louisville, or more accu- 
rately speaking, I was in the car- 
yards of the Union Depot. A con- 
vincing evidence of that fact was the 
offensive odor of coal smoke, which is 
not at all uncommon in such places; 
and then there was the ding, ding of 
the bells, and the hiss and thud of 
escaping steam from the big engines 
which so unavoidably attracted my 
attention. Great iron horses of un- 
wieldy power and strength, each one 
seemingly trying to out do the other 
in disturbing the peace of the early 
morning. When I had done with the 
car yards, and was in the heart of 



42 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 

the city, the most rivaled habitation 
of our State, there were still unpleas- 
antries that nauseated me ; for in ad- 
dition to the coal smoke and noise, 
there were the grocery stores half 
filled with rotten fruit and vegetables. 
And then there were the wholesale 
whisky houses and saloons. Uh! 
The sensation went through me when 
I passed, and I wondered how they 
could ever tempt a young soul to hell. 
Passing still farther on, I smelt the 
unwholesome odor of the butcher 
shop, and again had to hold my nose 
— spoilt fish, dried herrings hanging 
up on the outside for sale, and half 
picked chickens black with dirt and 
coal soot ; skunk hides, dead rats, and 
a thousand other rotten things filled 
the air with unpleasant odors. The 
passers-by did not have that radient 
sparkle in their eyes and cheeks — the 
barometer of health and vigor, but 



''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 43 

were pale, dark and swarthy under 
the eyes. Sick from the impurities, 
hungry for pure wholesome air. The 
streets were crowded with these sick- 
ly people, of different ages as well as 
different sex, each one hurrying along 
with their little dinner boxes to their 
respective places of labor. Some, who 
perhaps had but recently drifted into 
these channels of life, were not so 
deathly looking as others, but they 
all wore that same sad look which in- 
dicated that they had seen better 
days. As I stood and gazed upon 
these pathetic specters of cramped 
life in our metropolis, I could not help 
but think that happy is he who 
pitches his tent on the brink of a 
country town. 

The next morning, in the quiet lit- 
tle town of Hodgenville, I took my 
morning walk, and v/hat a delightful 
morning it was. How I did throw my 



44 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 

shoulders back and breathe deep the 
pure wholesome air. How refreshing 
and invigorating. At every deep 
breath I would feel a pleasant sensa- 
tion run through me like a cool drink 
of water when hot and thirsty. It 
was a May morning in Kentucky and 
what more could be said. Petals of 
the blossoming orchards were flying 
here and there like so many snow- 
flakes; the sweet aroma of the lilac 
and hyacinth perfumed the air; the 
butterfly and busy bee were at their 
work, each nimble bee singing in its 
ov/n language the songs of spring. 
The green grass added to the life of 
life, and how clean and tender each 
blade spiring heavenward like a babe's 
face smiling up at its mother. Nature 
in her splendor and beauty lead me 
on, and before I realized it I was far 
beyond the town limits. A cool south 
breeze was bathing the meadow, and 



''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 45 

robin redbreast, hard by, with his 
pleasant melodies caused me to halt, 
and I noticed that I was in a city of 
small-winged folks, flitting from tree 
top to tree top, each one chirping and 
calling to his mate. A red bird flew 
up from the meadow, perched on a 
limb, and after giving me a look as 
if to question my authority there, 
shot up his crest, and in his melodious 
voice said, 'Teace, Peace, Peace." 

How delightful and sweet this is, I 
thought, and why can't man be like 
these creatures of God? Why does 
he pout and sulk over some petty 
difference; sulk, slander and throw 
mud in the face of his antagonist; 
yea, and get down in the mud and 
fight like curs. Why can't we poison 
the Mr. Hyde of our Natures, and just 
be Dr. Jekyll? Think what it would 
mean if every man, woman and child 
could do away with the bad part of 



46 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 

their nature, and be their better self. 
Do you follow me? If you do, you 
see our court houses crumbling to 
the ground, and our multitudinous 
law books pitched to the dogs. You 
cease to hear the demagogue poli- 
tician talking about what we need 
and what we do not need, and about 
how bad the other fellow is. You 
see even more than that ; you see that 
great army of thieves, robbers and 
whores marching out of their dens 
of ill-repute into an honest world 
seeking honest employment. You see 
their dens cleaned up and painted, 
and flowers and grass growing where 
once it would not. You hear prat- 
tling lips and happy laughter where 
once you heard curses and groans. 
The rotten stink of beer and whisky, 
vice and tui*pitude and fumes of hell ; 
the smoke of pistols, and the clatter 
of bowie-knives are cleared away for 
happy homes, and peace, peace, peace. 



'in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 47 



V. 



But thank God not all our pastimes 
are games of chance or games of vice. 
Some of our girls and boys are hav- 
ing real harmless fun. Over in an- 
other part of this town there is a 
house party, and in still another a 
moonlight on the lawn, and how they 
are talking and laughing and having 
jolly good times. You can see hap- 
piness written in every face. You 
can see pleasure in their smiles, and 
in the sparkle of their eyes, and hear 
the ring of joy in their laugh. And 
it makes you happy to see them hap- 
py. There is nothing like fun and 
real enjoyment; it is the soul and life 
of us all. There is the happy family 
around the hearthstone of their home 
— love, peace, and good will, hope and 



48 '*IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 

encouragement for one and all. There 
is that little innocent babe smiling up 
into the fond face of its loving moth- 
er; another such picture the world 
has never known. And then, too, 
there are the little boys and girls 
at play in the grass and among the 
flowers. What a pleasure it is to live, 
and to love and to be one of God's 
children. 

Let people laugh and have a big 
time, there is nothing like it. We 
can't stand a religious crank. It gives 
us the *'Jimjams" to see a person so 
religiously good they will do nothing 
but go to church and Sunday-school, 
and wear a long serious face like they 
had buried their mother-in-law. But 
laugh and have fun, it is necessary to 
health. God does not want us to be 
sanctified cranks. He gave us this 
life and expects us to enjoy it, and 
if our lives are miserable we are to 



''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 49 

blame for it ourselves, and are sin- 
ners against our maker. 

But do not make pleasure the aim 
and end of it all; rather let pleasure 
be the result of a well-directed aim. 
Besides, there is more pleasure in 
doing something worth while, not for 
the sake of the honor or the glory in 
it, nor yet for the sake of the self- 
sensual pleasure it may give you; 
but because it needs to be done; be- 
cause something somehow is calling 
you to do it. Young men, you can't 
all make doctors nor lawyers nor 
preachers. We can't all go to Con- 
gress. Nor can all of us make J. 
Pierpoint Morgans, Websters, Na- 
poleons nor John D. Rockefellers. 
Nor can all you young women make 
George Elliots or Harriet Beecher 
Stows. It is not for all of us to win 
reputations and be popular. God 
never intended that we should all 



50 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 

reach the top round of the ladder of 
fame. But we can do even more than 
that : we can be men and women. We 
can Uve a clean and spotless life. We 
can so live that when the pall of 
death hovers around us and the light 
of evening is growing dim, it can be 
said that the world has been made 
better by reason of our lives. It is 
better to live the simple part of a 
mother, than to travel to Egypt and 
lecture on ancient Thebes. There is 
more in giving your brother or fel- 
low townsman a cup of cold water, or 
in showing some disheartened soul 
the foot-path to peace. Every day 
you help to mold the character of 
some one who follows you. There 
are girls and boys looking at you as 
their pattern. It is a question of up 
or down. The development of the 
human race fluctuates like the tides 
of the sea. Place your criterion on 



''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 51 

the rock of ages and take a stand. 
You may never conquer the world, 
nor even revokitionize the town of 
Hodgenville; but you can thank God 
that you can so live that you will lay 
foot-prints on the sands of time that 
some shipwrecked soul may see and 
take heart again. If it is only one 
individual your influence for better, 
it is that many, it may turn his soul 
from a red hell to a shining star, and 
maybe he will influence others; and 
thus start in motion waves for good 
that will strike the shores of etern- 
ity. Such will last, and lift your feet 
into the Royal Highway of God's re- 
deemed people. 

The big steel locomotive is running 
at the rate of sixty miles an hour 
across the plains of Colorado. It is 
snowing. The little innocent flakes 
come dancing and twirling joyfully 
through the air; they light on the 



52 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 

iron railing in front of this engine, 
and are crushed beneath the weight 
of its mighty wheels. The big engine 
laughs to see them light on its boiler 
and melt into tears; but the little 
flakes keep falling, and after a while 
the track is covered with soft snow; 
and the engine begins to slow down 
from sixty to a forty-mile gate, and 
then to a thirty, and ten, and finally 
to a dead stop. She puffs and blows, 
but she can go neither forward nor 
backward. This mighty iron horse is 
a prisoner of the little snowflakes. 

The town Dorth, Holland, is lower 
than the level of the sea, and is pro- 
tected from the sea by a large dike 
or levy. One night that levy broke 
way, and the sea rushed in and swal- 
lowed up the city. The city was never 
more prosperous than the evening be- 
fore that flood. Everything was 
flourishing, and the good people of 



''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 53 

that little city went to bed that night 
with happj^ and hopeful hearts, but 
woke next morning in a watery grave. 
Thousands of homes and lives were 
lost; and the civilized world went 
down in mourning through sympathy 
over the terrible catastrophe. What 
was the cause of this awful destruc- 
tion? A little muskrat dug a hole 
in the dike. It was a small hole, and 
could have been stopped v/ith a hand- 
ful of mud, but it was neglected, and 
the water from the sea kept running 
through, and making its way larger, 
until at last the whole dam gave way, 
and the water rushed in on the happy 
people of that little city v/hile they 
were asleep. 

They are little things, — snow- 
flakes and muskrats. So is a smile, a 
kind word, a helping hand or a cup 
of water. But it is the little things 
in this world that make big things. 



54 '*IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 

If we can't do the big things, we 
can do the httle things, and if we 
will do them well, we can do great 
things. If we can't live in big cities 
and be millionaires, we can live in 
small towns and be good citizens. 

*'Be glad to live because it gives 
you a chance to love and to work and 
to play, and to look up at the stars. 
Be satisfied with your possessions, 
but not contented with yourself until 
you have made the best of them. De- 
spise nothing in the world except 
cowardice. Be governed by your ad- 
miration, rather than by your dis- 
gust, and let your admiration be high 
and lofty. Covet nothing that is your 
neighbor's except his kindness of 
heart and gentleness of manner. 
Think seldom of your enemies, often 
of your friends, and every day of God. 
And spend as much time as you can, 
with body and spirit, in God's out-of- 



''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN*' 55 

doors." The splendors of this beau- 
tiful world are ours; the beautiful 
fields and skies are our home; the 
fields and picturesque landscapes 
bursting forth into verdant meadows, 
blushing fruits and yellow harvests 
should thrill our hearts with the love 
of life, and the hope of an exhalted 
future. 

It is exhilerating to know that 
there are some such people in Hod- 
gen ville; that there are people here 
who are virtuous, and have clean 
thoughts, and whose presence refines 
and purifies; that there are people 
here whose actions are not governed 
by the love of money or personal en- 
joyment; nor do they do what they 
do because they want to go to Heaven, 
nor because they are afraid of Hell; 
but rather because it is right, and 
they love God. Not an imaginary 
god who sits on a golden throne and 



56 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 

wears boots and whiskers, but the 
real God of all gods : The God that's 
in the sunshine, and in the oxygen 
of the air; the God that's in the run- 
ning streams, in the sap of yonder 
tree, and in the blades of the grass 
on the hill; the God that courses up 
the stalk of that flower, opens its 
bud into a blossoming rose, and sends 
out its fragrance to refresh the 
passer-by ; the God that runs ma- 
chines, that runs my machine and 
your machine; the God that moves 
our life-blood through all the hidden 
channels of our bodies, and makes us 
see, taste, move, and love. 

Not but that some of us will go 
considerably out of our way for a sil- 
ver dollar, but in the midst of this 
chopping sea of civil life, such are 
the clouds and storms and quicksands, 
and a thousand and one items to be 
allowed for, that a man has to live. 



'In ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 57 

if he would not flounder and go to 
the bottom. But in Hodgenville you 
have friends who are your friends, 
not because they hate your enemies, 
nor do you have to continually court 
them lest your enemies take them 
from you, but they are your friends 
because you have a common idea of 
what is right and what is wrong. 

But after all, the good and the bad, 
the just and the unjust, so far as hfe 
here is concerned, it doesn't make 
any more difference when Utah was 
admitted to the Union, than it does 
who murdered Julius Caesar; for we 
soar but little higher in our intel- 
lectual flights than the columns of 
our daily paper. There are those, it's 
true, who know that Napoleon lost 
the battle of Waterloo, least wise 
they have heard it, but they don't 
know whether Maeterlinck was the 



58 "in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 

author of the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence or a ''tooth-dentist." 

Life in small towns is life in the 
country, life in the city. It's between 
the two ; and so on around the world, 
life is pretty much the same, just 
different ways of living it. Any- 
v/here and everywhere it's sweet as 
nitrous oxide ; the fisheiTnan dripping 
all day over a cold pond, the farmer 
in the field, the negro in the rice 
swamp, the fop in the street, the 
hunter in the woods, the barrister 
with the jury, the belle at the ball, 
all ascribe a certain pleasure to their 
employment, which they themselves 
give it. Health and appetite impart 
a sweetness to butter, bread, and 
meat. We fancy that our civilization 
has got on far, but we still come back 
to the primer. 

In LaRue County, on a cold snowy 
morning, smoke can be seen curling 



''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 59 

out of the tops of chimneys. If you 
will enter the cabins and huts from 
whence this smoke comes you will 
see a picture of backwoods realistic: 
A stout good-humored housewife 
holding a healthy dirty-faced baby 
in one arm and churning with the 
other; the rustic husband in one 
corner with a cob pipe in his mouth, 
looking lazily at the fire and boiling 
kettle. Around the fire are five or 
six larger children playing and romp- 
ing like overgrown hound puppies. 

This may not be a familiar scene 
to some, and yet there are many men 
in the world who came from just such 
firesides ; and though they have been 
away for ten, twenty, or thirty years, 
the picture is still vivid before them. 
And there are times when they would 
like to go back to this rural life and 
have their memory refreshened; 
times when they see the hard reality 



60 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 

of things about which they have 
been dreaming; v/hen some unex- 
pected catastrophe springs up, stares 
them in the face and makes them 
reahze that the road up is one con- 
tinuous struggle. When we who have 
come from these rude homes, advance 
that far that we begin to discover 
that out in the live world everybod}^ 
is after the almighty dollar, down 
in our throats is a heavy something 
that we can't quite swallow ; it is the 
instinctive yearning for the faith and 
frolic of our childhood. 

You may not be thinking of such 
a scene, or you may never have had 
such a thought ; if not you have never 
been there and lived that close with 
nature. To those who were born, 
lived and died in the LaRue County 
Hills that's about all there is to it, 
but be bom and raised there and then 
emigrate to the more civilized parts. 



''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 61 

and you are like some wild beast that 
has been caught, but never tamed. 
That instinctive yearning for the 
primitive is always in you, and some- 
times it riles up involuntary, and you 
snarl, growl and strike the cage ; but 
there is no going back, except on the 
wings of memory, to your yesterdays. 
But life creeps along from point to 
point along a line that's nameless as 
the thing that makes you what you 
are, and v/hether on Coney Island or 
in Hodgenville there is no way of tell- 
ing how it happened, or of how it 
could have been otherwise. We some- 
how live, and get along, and about as 
well one place as another; for it is 
the other place after all that makes 
us want to live and go galloping on. 
Life is a struggle, whether in Liver- 
pool, Cuxhaven or Fairthorn. And 
times are always hard, whether under 
a Democratic or Republican adminis- 



62 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 

tration. Some men give up the ghost 
where others go on and conquer. The 
thing to do is keep kicking, and you 
will finally land or go to the bottom. 
The result of the one is about equal 
to the other; there is no difference 
after we are dead and gone to the 
devil. All our yesterdays have lighted 
fools the way to dusty death; but 
the weary world wags on in the wake 
of its gray to-morrows. 

Christmas comes, and with it the 
firecrackers, skyrockets, roman can- 
dles and torpedoes. We fairly take 
the roof off our town, we are so glad 
that Christ was bom, lived and died 
to save a world. We are so happy 
over it that we are just pounding 
each other with snowballs, if there 
is any snow to pound with; if not, 
then with footballs or boxing gloves. 
Old men stand by and watch it; 
church deacons, preachers and town 



''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 63 

and county officials stand on the cor- 
ners and see this batthng well done, 
if they can keep out of it themselves. 
But let's not watch these Christmas 
frolics too long ; it's contagious. Let's 
go up Main street, and turn out High- 
land avenue toward the County Jail. 
There we will see men spying through 
their little iron-barred window to get 
a peep at the ''Merry Christmas" 
that's being so generously scattered 
abroad. We might stop here and 
write a book about this jail, "whose 
walls are strong." "But the moving 
finger writes, and having writ, moves 
on; nor all your piety nor all your 
wit shall lure it back to cancel half 
a line; nor all your tears wash out a 
word of it." 



64 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN' 



VI. 

And yet, notwithstanding all this, 
amid the fluctuating scenes of human 
life, there comes a time, when all, 
the good and the bad, the wise and 
the unwise, must stop and gaze with 
solemn awe at the sad and melancholy 
spectre of the dead. In the very 
midst of the gayest hilarity of the 
ball or lawn party, or v/hile the dice 
are rattling and vice is running ram- 
pant, there is somebody in our little 
town at the drowning point. Some- 
body's lamp is going out. And while 
some of our fellow townsmen are run- 
ning over with joy at the gay festivi- 
ties, others are standing by the bed- 
side of a dying friend with tears run- 
ning down their cheeks, moaning and 
sobbing over the loss of a departed 



"in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 65 

soul. What a change of feelmg it 
brings over us when returning from 
our nightly pastimes we are ap- 
prised of the death of a friend or ac- 
quaintance. But a few days ago we 
followed the corpse of one of our 
young and best citizens to its resting 
place on the hill. And as we stood 
around the newly-made grave, listen- 
ing to the last sad song, how our 
memories carried us back over the 
years, and landed us again face to 
face with her in her many happiest 
hours. We will long remember her 
kind heart and gentle manners. But, 
oh, for the smile of that cold face, or 
for the sound of that voice that is 
still! How dismal and dreary it 
makes us feel to see our dear friend 
lowered into the ground, and to hear 
that rattle of the dirt upon the coffin. 
And then again, when we come back 
to town, and to the home of the be- 



66 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 

reaved ones ; there's the saddest part 
of it all; there is a chair vacant, a 
voice silent, a face missing, a mem- 
ber of that heart-aching family gone. 
Not gone visiting for a few days or 
weeks, but gone forever ; gone to that 
eternal resting place from whence no 
one ever returns. Her happy voice 
and bright smiles will never cheer or 
brighten that home again. 

Sooner or later we will all be sum- 
moned to answer the same call. ''Per- 
haps just in the happiest sunniest 
hour of all the voyage, while eager 
v/inds are kissing every sail, we'll be 
dashed against an unseen rock, and 
in an instant hear the billows roar 
above a sunken ship; for whether in 
mid ocean, or among the breakers of 
the farther shore, a wreck at last 
must mark the end of each and all." 
"But the gay will laugh when thou 
art gone, and the solemn brood of 



''IN ABE Lincoln's town" 67 

care plod on, and each one as before 
will chase his favorite fantom." Just 
now you may be in the very bloom of 
your glory; you may have friends 
tried and true; and when you are 
dead they may gather around your 
dead body and listen to the funeral 
sermon. But only a portion of them 
will follow your corpse to the grave; 
and a great many of them will have 
erased you from their memory, ere 
they have returned to their homes 
and business. And next summer it 
will be a few, only a few, who will 
carry flowers to your grave. Others 
will have taken your place in their 
lives, and in the routine of the world ; 
and things will move along about the 
same as if you had never been. This 
is not only true with you and with 
me; but the chief citizen, the most 
important personage of our mu- 
nicipality, may die to-day, and to- 



68 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 

morrow somebody else will take his 
place. 

In short, coming more direct to the 
point I have been trying to drive 
home around the back way; there is 
no one man, nor any set of men, who 
own, make or control this burg. In 
other words, this is no one man's 
town. There may be individuals, it's 
true, whose name would suggest to 
you Hodgenville, but that is because 
they have always lived here and don't 
know much else, and not because they 
own or control the town. For the 
name Moses Scapegrass or Woodson 
Huckleberry would suggest to you 
the town in which they live just as 
much as would the name William 
Moffett, John W. Skidpath or Jocel- 
inus de Brakelonda; and yet, each of 
them are only an individual part of 
the whole— Hodgenville. "Billy Goat," 
''George Cooney," and "Uncle John,'* 



"in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 69 

sorry and insignificant as they are, 
go to make up this town, and fill their 
part in the great stage of life and 
action. Rastus, McAdoo, and old man 
Sam have their part, and so does the 
town marshal, and the board of trus- 
tees; but none of them, nor all of 
them, are any more the town of 
Hodgenville than Woodrow Wilson 
and his appointees are the United 
States of America. And Woodrow 
Wilson is no more the United States 
than is the Rock Island Railroad or 
the great Shoshone Dam. I have 
seen boys who thought they were the 
whole town, and men who thought 
they were the United States; and I 
saw one man who thought he was the 
whole world, till he locked horns with 
"Boss Barnes" and "Sunnie Jim," and 
because he could not throw it over 
them, stood up in bold silhouette, and 
said, "ril create a world of my own," 



70 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 

but he foundered. And so this man, 
Hke the rest of us, is only part of the 
whole. 

The question is, what part are you ? 
Are you a part of the United States, 
or are you just a part of your indi- 
vidual town; and if so what part? 
And do you fill your part? Is your 
part shedding tears, or do you laiigh 
some, and do you make other people 
laugh? Is the world, or your town 
any better, or is any one made hap- 
pier, or has any one's load been light- 
ened by reason of you ? Do you make 
a good citizen ? Does Hodgenville get 
along any better by reason of you 
living there ? Are your fellow towns- 
men proud of you, or would they pay 
your railroad fare one way for a thou- 
sand miles to get rid of you, and feel 
like they had a bargain at that ? Are 
you a chronic knocker, or do you hollo 
'*hurrah" when a good move is made. 



''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 71 

whether you had anything to do with 
it or not ? Of course, we all have our 
part in making the town; whether 
the fruits of our labor stand out a 
glowing model for others, or whether 
it sinks down to shame, a signal 
warning, we do our part for good or 
bad. But it is just as easy to be a 
good citizen as a bad one. As Thoreau 
said, *We are all sculptors, and our 
material is our own flesh and blood 
and bones.'' Life is a habit. And to 
build character we have to make the 
habit. It is just as easy to get the 
habit of looking on the bright side 
as the dark side, if some "tar-heel" 
has not blacked both sides, as the 
boy said when he joined the army. It 
is just as easy to love your town as 
to hate it. 

People! Citizens of Hodgenville! 
Fellow townsmen! We all have our 
faults, and we all have our good 



72 "IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 

qualities. There is so much good in 
the worst of us, and so much bad in 
the best of us. **In men whom men 
condemn as ill, I find so much of good- 
ness still ; and in men whom men pro- 
nounce divine I find so much of sin 
and rot, I hesitate to draw the line 
between the two where God has not." 
God, help us to see ourselves as we 
are. Help us to see the mote that is 
in our own eye. Help us to make an 
inventory of our lives, so that it may 
stand out before us a plain picture 
just what we are. Help us to see 
the good that is in our brother as well 
as the bad, and when we see the bad 
that is in the other fellow, teach us 
to look upon it as a guide post, a 
signal warning from danger, rather 
than a lever to drag him further 
down, or a joke to gloat and chuckle 
over. Let us see the faults of our 
little town, but don't stop there, help 



''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 73 

US to remedy these faults. Let us all 
join in one incessant heave at the 
wheels of progress, and push Hodgen- 
ville on and upward into a cleaner 
and better town. Help us, Almighty 
God, to love our little town, and above 
all, to love one another. 



74 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN' 



VII. 

To hear the yelp of the coyote, you 
must lie alone in the sage brush near 
the pool in the hollow of the low hills 
by the moonlight ; it will never reach 
your ears through the bars of the 
menagerie cage. To know the moun- 
tains you must confront the avalanche 
and precipice unaccompanied, and 
stand at last on the breathless and 
awful peak, which lifts itself and 
you into a voiceless solitude. To 
comprehend the ocean, you must 
meet it in its own inviolable domain, 
where it tosses heavenward its care- 
less nakedness, and laughs with 
death. But to know and love your 
town, you must go away from it, 
out into other distant, unknown 
places where you can compare them ; 



''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 75 

or better still, visit all these places, 
where you can estimate your town's 
significance, and God's Infinitude. 

One autumn evening, several years 
ago, I was walking along the streets 
of Portland, Oregon, the fartherest 
from home I had ever been. I had 
been av/ay from home some two years, 
and had not received a letter from 
there for a long time. I was not 
what you would call "homesick," but 
just felt as if I would like to see some 
of the folks, or at least hear from 
them. I had just struck Portland 
that afternoon, and was walking up 
the street, looking at the strange 
faces; when suddenly the melodious 
voice of Bernard Hardtlitz, on one of 
those long-horned graphophones, 
caught my ear. He was singing **My 
Old Kentucky Home." It was sweet, 
and touched me, and I guess the oper- 
ator must have noticed it, for he put 



76 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 

that other record on. I don't know 
what you call the piece, but to a Ken- 
tucky boy thousands of miles away 
from home, it is the sweetest song 
that ever floated out on the still 
night air: 

"I was born and bred in old Kentuck, 
In my old Kentucky home. 
Then take me back to old Kentuck, 
There's where I like's to roam." 

Its words and peculiar melody made 
my hair stand on end. I could see 
that long-winding stretch of steel 
rails over the Rocky Mountains, 
across the great plains, the Missis- 
sippi Valley, and into the fields and 
meadows and apple orchards of Old 
Kentucky. I reached up and got my 
hat, tipped it to the operator and 
graphophone, walked out and down 
to the station and asked the agent the 
fare to Louisville. He reached up on 



''in ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN" 77 

a high shelf, took down a book all 
covered with soot and cobwebs, and 
informed me that it was $56.38. I 
knew I was a long way from home, 
but until then I did not realize how 
far I was in dollars and cents. I 
thanked him, and walked back up 
town to see if I could find a place to 
lay my head. But somehow there 
was a lump in my throat, a something 
I could not quite swallow. Me-thinks 
now that were such my temptations 
again, I would ''mount the rods" or 
"deck a passenger train" and steal my 
way back to sweet old Kentucky. 

I love Kentucky. I love her fields 
and skies, her flocks and herds, her 
blue-grass knobs and picturesque 
meadows; and I love her virtuous 
women and brave and fearless men. 
And best of all Kentucky, I love 
Hodgenville, that little town on the 
banks of the clear and serene Nolyn. 



78 ''IN ABE LINCOLN'S TOWN'' 

That little town near which I was 
bom, and grew up to be a man. Where 
I have my friends and I have my en- 
emies, where I've had my ups and 
I've had my downs. That little town 
on the side of the hill, where the rain 
falls, and the sun shines and the 
breezes blow; and above all, where 
God still lives. She has her faults, 
she has her dirty dives it's true, and 
she has her frailties yet to mend; 
but take her all in all, for men and 
women, good and bad, for happy 
homes and loving hearts, it's next to 
the best place the good Lord ever 
made. 



